


Sprouting Upwards

by billywixxan, little_soldier_bodt



Series: Let's Grow Like English Roses [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Class Difference, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Illustrated, M/M, Young Love, victorian au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 20:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3182861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billywixxan/pseuds/billywixxan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_soldier_bodt/pseuds/little_soldier_bodt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco Bodt is the heir to the grand Bodt estate, all 50,000 acres of it. Despite being 12 years old, he's not actually seen much of the rolling hills and gorgeous gardens that they own. One day, he decides its time to do just that; and with that trip he meets a scruffy stableboy that makes him want to explore the grounds a whole lot more...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sprouting Upwards

When I was 12, I remember using hot, summer days as an excuse to not to pay attention to my tutor. I would gaze out the window, chin on my hand, and think about how the clear skies and slight breezes were perfect for exploring the grounds of the Bodt estate. I hoped that one day I could climb the hill in the distance, to lie in the grass underneath the tree that stood at the top; it seemed so far away back then. Or maybe I could find the river I’d seen on the maps of my estate. I had memorised where it was through excited eyes, past the estate church and beside the orchard where the farmers grew our apples. I would long for the day I could make a rod out of a stick and some string and catch some fish, or maybe-

 

* * *

 

 “Master Bodt, pay attention.”

 

I jump at the harsh tone of my tutor, knocking my slate and chalk off the desk in the process.

"Oh, sorry, Sir!"

I don't dare move. Instead, I opt to stay stuck to my seat despite my things lying on the floor. I keep my hands on my lap and my eyes focused on Mr. Ackerman, anxiously waiting for his response. He sighs, looking out the window to the hills, with the same wistful look I had not moments before. Yet the nagging frown reappears on his face regardless of the wondrous green outside. ’It must be an adult thing’, I think to myself.

 

After a pause of silence that leaves me uncomfortable in my seat, Mr. Ackerman sighs again, lighter this time, and turns back to look me up and down, and then to his pocket watch. I feel somewhat nervous under his calculating stare, but a feeling of elation washes over me when he finally says, “Well you’re covered in chalk now, but it’s near enough to lunch… Find your Nanny so that she may help you clean up, and then you can explore outside or something like that." He waves a hand to dismiss me; "Well done today Master Bodt, but I expect your full attention next time.”

 

With an obedient “Yes, sir, thank you!” I scramble to pick up my slate and chalk, placing it back on the desk and taking a moment to arrange it neatly. I walk calmly out of the classroom, but as soon as I turn the corner I giggle gleefully, I attempt to hide it with my hands as I race down the corridor.

 

"I'll make it outside the formal gardens today!" I tell myself.

 

I skid into my playroom with a sudden halt when I see my Nanny folding the (rather large) pile of washing.

“Nanny Ral, Nanny Ral!" I call, "Mr. Ackerman said that if I clean up I can go explore outside maybe, can I, please?” I say with an exasperated pant, as I try to catch my breath.

Nanny Ral looks to me devastated, and a disappointed mumble of “Master Bodt, your clothes..!” escapes her mouth.

My grin falters and I duck my head, trying to brush the chalk off my waistcoat.

“I’m sorry, Nanny Ral... I knocked my chalk off my desk by accident.” I say pitifully, glancing up to gauge her reaction.

Nanny Ral sighs, putting the neatly folded washing to the side and walking over to me with a small smile.

“It’s quite alright.” She tells me with a gentle lilt to her voice, undoing the buttons on my waistcoat and taking it off, “You’ve managed to save your shorts, at least.” Nanny Ral folds up my dirty waistcoat and puts it in a basket beside the clean washing. She cards through the clean pile to pick out a new one, checking it over then coming back to me. I let her put the clean waistcoat on me, despite being old enough to do it all myself. I've been told plenty of times I shouldn't have to bother with dressing myself when she's there to do it for me, but I still find the whole thing a bit too childish (and embarrassing).

 

She tugs at my sleeves in an attempt to straighten them, giving a sharp sigh when they fail to meet her standards. She looks up at me (even at twelve I'm slightly taller than her) and I smile politely, despite being anxious to get my things and leave. Her look turns soft and motherly towards me as she smiles back,

“Mr. Ackerman won’t be too pleased if you make a habit out of staring out the window, you rascal.” She berates to me, tweaking my nose playfully. I laugh with her, rubbing my now sore nose, glad to be forgiven for making a mess of my waistcoat.

 

"You have an hour, Master Bodt." Nanny Ral tells me firmly, pushing me gently on the back; I take that as a signal to gather up what I want.

‘A whole hour!' I think to myself with glee; that should be plenty of time to make it to the river, or maybe even the hill! "Thank you so much, Nanny Ral!” I give her quick hug before getting my things, more specifically, my map.

 

Nanny Ral has tidied since I've been in here last, but it's nothing new, so I easily pick out my favourite map of the estate from amongst a neat stack of papers in my desk draw, making sure it goes back as neat as I found it. I know that we have maids to do that type of thing, but it seems wrong to cause them extra hassle. I go to rush out the door after picking up a yo-yo from a toy chest and putting it in my pocket, but I'm called back by a loud voice,

"Marco, don't forget your hat, you don't want to become tanned like the farmers!"

I turn around slowly to find Nanny Ral holding out a cap with raised eyebrows, expectant for me to put it on. The look on her face makes me hang my head again with guilt as I take the cap from her and put it on my head.

 

“Image is everything.” My Father always says, and I know it's true. It's bad enough that I've gotten freckles from the odd times I've gone out in the sun without protection; Father says I've got to be extra careful in the summer, or I'll become tanned and look like I do hard labour. “And we don't want that!” He'd say with a laugh. I don't understand, but I agree anyway.

 

So, with a cap on my head, map in my hand and yo-yo in my pocket I sigh with a cheeky grin, placing my hands on my hips and tapping my foot. My voice drips with impatience, and I just hope that I'm not being too rude.

"May I go _now_ , Nanny Ral?"

She laughs unattractively, covering it with her hand out of politeness (and slight embarrassment), shaking her head in an amused fashion. I drop my pose with a laugh myself, a small part inside of me relieved that my attempt at sass hadn't hurt anyone's feelings; maybe I'll use it more often.

Nanny Ral replies with an imitation of my blunt tone and posture, a toothy smile creeping on her face as she speaks, "Okay, Marco, I suppose you can go and have _some_ fun." Another laugh escapes us both and a warm feeling swells in my chest. I'm just about to turn on my heels and go, when she adds as a second thought, "Don't go too far; I know this is your land, but your Father would hang me from a hook if he found out you'd been up and over the hill!"

My shoulders slump and the warm swell of what I presume was happiness, changes into a churning sensation of sadness in my gut. Glancing at the map in my hand and stopping a telltale whine of disappointment from making its presence, I tell Nanny Ral that “Of course I won't go too far!” with the grin we were sharing just moments before. I'm lying through my teeth though, so I leave my playroom as quick as I can before I'm figured out.

 

* * *

 

 

I don't usually break rules, and the fact that I instantly lied about my intentions nags on my mind as I make my way outside of the manor. Instead of using a door that leads straight into the gardens, I decide that through the front door would be the quickest way to get to the rolling hills and the lush trees I can see from the classroom. I creep about the house like someone out of a play, arms kept in and my steps long and pointed. It’s to help get rid of the guilt that’s settled in my stomach, I suppose; but I'll admit that I do like to pretend I'm on a secret mission, like a character from one my storybooks (it's more exciting that way). I reach the stairs and tiptoe down, each movement pulling a high-pitched 'creeeeak' from the steps, courtesy of myself. I can't help but giggle at my silliness, so I have to stop and calm myself down every few steps so that I can keep up a realistic noise.

 

I'm nearly at the bottom when a sudden questioning voice makes me jump and almost stumble, but a strong hand steadies me before I can fall, quickly removing itself once I'm upright. As I take a deep breath to calm myself, I crane my neck up to see who caught me in the act of creeping down the stairs.

I flush a dark scarlet when I realise that it's Mr. Smith, our Head Butler. He's carrying a silver tray in a gloved hand, the other folded behind his back; his appearance is pristine, just how Father expects. However, I can see a ghost of a smile on his face and I can just tell that he's laughing on the inside at my childish games. It's hard not to feel like a lesser being around Mr. Smith, but that may just be me.

 

" Are you okay, young master?" He asks with concern, but amusement sneaks into his tone. I'm about to nod dumbly, but I don't want the Head Butler to be telling Father that '”Your Son can't handle himself”, so I take another deep breath and stand up, back straight, and shoulders squared.

"Uh, yes Mr. Smith. Er, thank you for your concernwhatwereyouasking?" My voice breaks at the end of my sentence and I cringe inwardly.

Mr. Smith has the nerve to chuckle under his breath, which only makes me that much more embarrassed. "I was asking," He speaks slowly and clearly, but not mockingly, "If the stairs need replacing, Sir. They were sounding rather squeaky when you were walking down them."

 

'Oh no, he definitely saw!' my mind screams at me; I can feel another humiliated blush appear on my skin. I put on bravado of calmness, frowning like I've seen Mr. Ackerman do and puffing out my chest. "No, that won't be necessary!" I say haughtily, shaking my head, "You may go about your day."

Mr. Smith bows his head with a 'Yes, Sir.' and leaves for the parlour, silver tray balanced perfectly on one hand. I stay where I am until he is out of sight, and then hop down the rest of the stairs without all of the dramatics. I don't want to risk another servant catching me in the act, a rumour might spread that I'm mad.

 

Once at the door, I push it carefully, ducking low and peeking around it. I just begin to feel the rays of sun on my face, eyes adjusting to the bright outdoors, when I catch glimpse of the light glinting on something metallic, an auto-mobile. The machine trundles up the main drive accompanied by a gruff rumble and the occasional splutter, it's frame shakes and causes sparkles of light to blind me slightly.

 

_It's Father home for lunch._

 

My stomach drops suddenly and I slam the door shut with a gasp, sprinting back into the depths of the manor. I rush past the Butler, who gives me a brief, “Careful Sir,” eyes wide and slightly confused, before stepping out of my way; I'll have to apologise to him later. I just make it around the corner when I hear the bell ring to hail the Butler to answer the door. I don't move quite yet, thinking that maybe Father will be through quickly and then I can make my exit; but I hear my Father's booming voice say, “Ah, Butler, get the Footman to bring in my bags.” with an added, “Oh, and perhaps the Second Footman too, there's quite a load with me today!” I realise then that I have to cross front door off my list of exits. Drat.

 

I sigh a little, but hurry through the halls to the other end of the manor, where the conservatory is. The conservatory faces the formal gardens. It's going to add more time to my journey, but it's better than running into Father and risking being questioned.

"All of this sneaking and evasiveness is really making me feel guilty..." I whisper to myself, peeking into the conservatory from behind the door. I scan the room, finding no one about to stop me, so I saunter across the conservatory to the tall, glass doors that lead straight into the formal gardens. I'll have to go through all of the gardens, out of the gate and then down some steep steps to reach the beginning of the fields: but as I've said before, it's better than being caught by Father. On second thought, it does mean I may not be able to reach the hill in time to return for lunch, which is disappointing, to say the least.

 

"You can still start to head to the river in time, there's something to look forward to." I try to reason with myself, giving a shrug of my shoulders. I reach for the door handle, gripping it and pushing it down. A guilty conscience stops me from pushing open the door, however.

 

_You have lied to Nanny Ral._

 

But I've been planning this for days!

 

_All of this sneaking is a sign its wrong, Marco._

 

Yes, but we're not sure when the weather will be this perfect again! It might never be as nice as this!

 

Devil's advocate wins my inner struggle, but I still open the door with a sense of disappointment in myself. I open it slowly and peek round the corner as I have done with the others, looking left and right with a squint before deeming it safe and stepping into the garden, I shut the door behind me with a click. Finally.

 

As the first touch of the summer sun creeps onto my skin, any guilt I once had flies away with the calm breeze. Who cares if I've not been so honest about where I'm going, it's not going to hurt anyone right?

"Right." I assure myself, taking a deep breath. By the time I've let it out, an eager grin lies on my face.

 

I don't want to set out my map in plain sight, so I scurry further into the gardens. There's a spot in between some magnolia and rhododendron plants that is hidden from the manor's view. I should know, I've tested every window. So, I crouch down underneath their shade in order to not dirty my shorts, and roll out my map in front of me.

It takes a while for me to figure out where I am and what direction I should be going in, but once I've figured it out, I trace my finger over the map and memorise the path to the river.

 

Past the church and beside the orchard. Got it.

 

I fold up the map and tuck it under my arm, leaning out from underneath the bushes and looking left and right. There's no one there, to no surprise, so I run out of my hiding place with a giggle, across the greens. I get about half way across when I feel a breeze on my hair that I shouldn't be…

 

"Oh no, my cap!" I shout out in slight panic. I pat the top of my head to confirm that, yes; my cap had come off somewhere. I try to retrace my steps, glancing behind me to see that, yes, the bushes had knocked my cap off my head as I rushed out. I traipse back to the rhododendrons and hydrangeas without the rush from before, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Pesky bushes..." I mutter, scooping up my cap from the floor and fixing it back on my head firmly. Try two.

 

I manage to make it to the stairs that lead into the fields without knocking my cap off this time, and I congratulate myself for getting this far. It's silly, I know, but I've never done things like this before! It's taken months of hinting and persuading to even be allowed outside on my own- under the condition that it's only in the formal gardens and only for as long as Nanny Ral says. That's been okay for a while, and I understand that Mother, Father and Nanny Ral are only worried for me... But there's so much more beyond the formal gardens, it would be so nice to know it all _before_ I own it. Father tells me we own at least 50,000 acres of land and it will all become mine if I play my cards right. Yet I've barely been in 10 acres of it, how am I supposed to run all of that? When I tell Father my worries he chuckles with a shake of his head and pats my back fondly. 'You'll learn how with time, Son.' He'll say. I don't think I will, but I laugh along anyway.

 

The stairs are hidden from the view of the formal garden, around some magnolias and down a short dirt path. It's like this so that the gardeners don't have to come through the front gate, and therefore are less likely to be seen by others, I think. But what is an everyday route for them is an adventure for me. I can't contain my smile as I trundle down the muddy path, looking out for the gate to the stairs that lead outside the formal gardens. The path is clear enough, worn away by years of gardeners making their trip to work, but it still takes a minute for me to find what I'm looking for. Closely packed trees loom above me, only allowing flickers of sunlight through their leaves; the patterns lying over the ground and my clothes. Despite only being a few metres from the formal gardens, it already feels like I'm somewhere completely new and secret, I'm in awe. I find myself walking at a calm pace as I walk down the path, taking in the glow of sun patches. But as soon as the iron gate to the stairs catches my sight, I almost run, excitement to be finally leaving these gardens replacing my wonder.

 

The gate to the stairs is slightly agar, almost as if inviting me out; however the stairs are worn, well used but not maintained to a high standard. I stare down them wearily, a sense of doubt suddenly kicking in about leaving out the formal gardens. There's no railing, which doesn't help my pre-adventure jitters and the steps are kind of steep..

"Marco, do it!" I try to motivate myself, clenching my fists and pulling a face of determination, teeth bared. I drop out of it after psyching myself up and glance behind me as a final check for others. Then, with a steady breath, I push open the gate fully and carefully make my way down the steps.

 

* * *

 

 

The trees quickly give way to rolling fields of green once I finish climbing the stairs and the sunlight now shines everywhere, leaving gentle warmth on my body. I feel like a lazy cat, and that makes me smile a little. I take a moment to gather my bearings. The fields are so open, unlike the uniformed formal gardens, so it's hard to figure out where you are. I open up my map again, trying to match up where I am with what's on the map, and, "Aha!” I can see the church to my right, a little ways off. If I just stick to the left of it, I should reach the orchard and the river in no time.

 

So that’s what I do. I play with my yo-yo as I trek up the steep-ish hill of the field, watching the bobbin spin up and down. Occasionally I look up to check I'm still going in the right direction, church to my right. The grass tickles at my ankles, which makes me wonder when the last time someone's bothered to cut it. It's soon going to be hunting season- when autumn comes around; someone should cut it soon, or Father won't be pleased.

 

I look up again, having to squint at the sudden light in my eyes. If it weren't for the church getting closer, it would feel like I haven't moved at all. But I am moving, one foot in front of another across the never ending expanse of fields; and sooner or later I can see the trees in the next field over, stood in uniform rows and bearing lots and lots of apples.

 

I look across the stonewall separating the two fields for a gate or opening to get in. I don't see one, but I do spot a person close by, carrying some hay in a wheelbarrow. They’re making their way in the opposite direction, so I quickly run over to catch them.

 

"Excuse me!" I shout out to them, waving an arm as if that would grab their attention. The person turns around with a shocked jump and I'm a little surprised to see that it's only a boy around my age. He's slightly tanned, sun kissed almost, and a brown flat-cap tries to hide straw-blond hair beneath. He's pretty. After he calms down from the initial shock (I think I scared him), he looks at me with a strong frown, eyes narrowed and in a glare that makes him seem a lot older than he is. And I thought frowning was an adult thing! I don't really think he wants to be bothered… But I need to find out how to get through the orchard to the river, so I carry on forward; I'm trying to smile as gently as possible, but his glare makes me frown a little myself. By the time we're face to face, his hostile look switches to something more confused, his shoulders slumped and mouth slightly open, as if he's unsure of what I am... That frown is still there though.

 

"Er, hello!" I greet him, waving a little, " I was wondering if you could tell me how to get into the orchard?" I ask uncertainly, trying to smile. The boy looks me up and down, frown firmly still in place, which makes me feel a little awkward under his stare and silence. I look back at him out of curiosity and see that his clothes are crinkled, and he's wearing only a simple waistcoat with no tie. Instead, this boy has a bright red neckerchief tied around his neck, underneath his shirt, which is unbuttoned at the top. It doesn't look like it cost much at all, and the patch on his sleeve tells me that maybe his family can't get a hold of anything new... But, I quite like it! Despite looking messy, what he's wearing definitely seems more suited to this weather than my stuffy clothes.

 

"The gate's on the other side of the river." He eventually tells me in a thick accent, consonants practically silent and the ending r on river slightly rolled. Hehe, that sounds funny. Wait- how can that be right?

 

"But I've got to go _through_ the orchard to get to the river, haven't I?" I ask, quickly unfolding my map and looking at it, tilting it so that the boy can see it too. Yeah, it shows here that the river is through the orchard. The boy stares in silence for a while, and then makes a noise of confusion as I point out where the river is on the map.

"See, here it says the river is behind the orchard" I trace my finger along the river; glancing up to check I'm being understood. He's staring at me confused. Folding the map back up, I turn to gesture at the wall that blocks my way, "But there's a wall surrounding the orchard, so…Uh…"

I'm cut off by a sudden intake of breath coming from the boy and I look to see a look of panic on his face, golden eyes wide like a scared rabbit. His mouth drops open as if to speak, but out comes no noise. I wait for his response, confused at the sudden change of character from him.

"The wall ain't too hard to climb over…! " He manages to say, words rushed and hard to understand.

 

And with that he turns quickly, grabbing hold of his wheelbarrow and pushing with a lot of power, quickly heading away from me. 'Thank you…?' I say quietly, thoroughly confused as to why the boy reacted like that. Of course, he doesn't hear my thanks, as he's already far away, head down and definitely not looking back. I watch him for a second, _still_ confused at his change in attitude. His wheelbarrow is spilling over the edges and his running causes stray pieces of straw to escape from the pile, carried away by the breeze. He's loosing quite a bit of hay in his rush.. Surely that's not good for his job?

 

'How strange!' I think, raising my eyebrows and finally turning away and walking towards the orchard's wall. Maybe he realised he was late for something, so had to leave suddenly... Or perhaps I said something to offend him? I feel a little offended if I'm honest. But, once I get to the wall, I decide it doesn't really matter. The boy was right, the wall shouldn't be too hard to climb over, it only reaches my chest. Plus, it's made up of various stones of mish-mash sizes, leaving plenty of places for me to lock in my foot and hoist myself up; though I can't be too sure, I've never climbed a wall before.

 

I peer over the top of the wall, checking the ground beneath. I see no obvious rocks or objects that could damage my clothes or hurt myself, so I throw my map and yo-yo over so I'll have my hands free to climb. After staring at the wall for a moment, I bend my knees and jump up and forward, hooking my hands on the other side of the wall. My chest scrapes against the stones as I quickly scramble to get a foothold then push myself up and over, landing on the grass with a hollow _thud_.

 

That probably wasn't the best idea.

 

"Ooooooww..." I whine, the breath taken out of me with the fall. I roll over with a groan and watch the clouds for a while, taking steady breaths and calming myself down. The grass is long and seems to hug me, and despite the hard landing, it's relatively soft. I manage to pick out a dog, some trees and a fish until the ache in my chest becomes practically nothing and I can breathe deeply again.

 

Turning my head to the right, I look at the apple trees through the blades of glass. Their branches hang low with the weight of the ripening apples attached, creating a tunnel lit gently by the sun through leaves. Excitement returns to me quickly; I scramble up and search the ground for my map and yo-yo, finding them hidden in the long grass. Resting on my heels, I stretch out my map in front me and study it carefully.

 

'Okay, so I've walked through _those_ fields and him around about _here._..' I mumble to myself, once again tracing my finger along the contours of the map. I glance up quickly, then back to the map; a smile rests on my face as I realise that the river will be straight ahead. I fold map back up, the folds imperfect with my rush; reaching back to grab my yo-yo I can feel the bubble of excitement inside me once again. It takes three tries to actually pick up my yo-yo, but once it's in my hand I jump up with a spring in my step and race down the tunnel of apple trees, ducking under the odd branch.

 

It doesn't take long until I glimpse a twinkle of light ahead of me; it shimmers and flickers as if it’s a flame in the breeze. Soon, the glints of light spread out to reveal a shimmering river, lying practically still behind long reeds swaying in the breeze. My running slows to nothing more than a stroll, my eyes glued to the sight before me. There's an overwhelming sense of awe in my chest, overpowering the barely-ache that was there before. I come to a halt at the riverside, staring down at the water. I can't see the riverbed due to the sunlight reflecting off the water's surface; but pond skaters and water-boatmen travel along freely.

 

I crouch down and no test the ground beneath me. It's not that wet or muddy so I plonk myself down, placing my map and yo-yo behind me to the right. I lean forward with a stretch, dipping my fingers in the water. The insects on top scatter away from my fingers in random directions, which makes me giggle. The water's got slight warmth to it, so I wiggle my fingers playfully, enjoying the heat. I debate with myself whether or not I should dip my feet in the river to enjoy the water. It takes a moment to decide, but soon enough, I'm pulling off my shoes and socks and dipping my feet into the flowing river.

 

"Ahh…Lovely." I sigh dreamily as I plunge my legs into the stream. I can feel the slow movement of the water down the river with my legs, so I swing them idly, enjoying the feel of the current against my skin. I look about, legs still swinging, and spot a dragonfly a little ways off in front of me. It hovers practically still in the air, wings a blur, then all of a sudden it moves; quicker than anything rushing by until it stops to a halt somewhere new. The dragonfly zooms past me and I duck out the way with an alarmed, "Woah!" The dragonfly stops then, as if halted by my outburst, and I giggle at the thought.

 

I've come to the conclusion that the river makes me feel free, like one of the pond skaters, or like one of the dragonflies that dart about in the air. I smile, enjoying the feeling of having no worries... Not that I have any worries normally! But I'm always told there are ways I'm supposed to act, clothes I'm supposed to wear when I'm at home. There's always people around that Mother and Father are dying to impress. Which means that I have to be impressive myself. Sometimes the people have children that I'm sent off to play with, but they're always too shy or to prim and proper. Booooooring.

 

Now, I know nothing other than the type of life I'm living, but I don't think this life is for me. I want to explore! I've always daydreamed of coming to the river, ever since I was given my map of the estate. I want to make it to the hill too, maybe the hill beyond that! Of course I'll need more than an hour's worth of time...

 

I sigh, pulling up some grass and throwing it into the river out of frustration: I watch it in silence, the grass slowly travelling down the stream until it's out of sight. I wish I had less limits at home. This river seems like such an escape; but if I go out of the orchard I can still see the manors roof poking above the hill. I'm excited to own this land, and all of the land around it. I'm even okay with all of the responsibilities Father says I'll have. It's like... I'm a hunting dog, that's not let out to hunt. Except, I'm not hunting anything. And I'm not a dog. I laugh at the idea of me being a dog, pulling out some more grass and throwing it down the river.

 

I look up at the sky with a squint, leaning back on my hands, swinging my legs in the water. It's peaceful. The faint rustle of leaves accompanies the trickle of the river and birdsong and I listen for what seems like hours. I don't think of anything too deep, only this and that. Like what's going to be for dinner, and wondering how they make dinner. I've never been in the kitchens myself, so it's all a mystery.

 

I think about the dinner parties that Father holds and the people that come to it. I don't like them very much; they gossip a lot, and not about nice things either. Mother tells me not to open my mouth if what I'm going to say isn't nice, but then she says bad things about others, just like the rest. It's a little hypocritical, but maybe she does it so the others won't gossip behind her back. It's all very confusing, like a game of chess perhaps.

 

Thinking of chess made me think of Alice in Through The Looking glass, which made me think of myself dressed up as Alice. Petticoats and all. I laugh, remembering the photos of me as a child; all donned up in Sailor dress and ribboned hat. I was cute; apparently all the ladies fawned over me. Of course, I don't really remember, but I still get the fuss from the ladies that visit Mother.

'Oh haven't you grown!'

'Becoming a fine Gentleman, aren't you Marco?'

They say all of this whilst pinching my cheeks or reaching up to mess my hair. Oh, and sometimes Mina's Mother will joke about being a perfect groom for her Mina, whilst neatening up my tie and waistcoat (they were tidy anyway, but I let her have her fun)

 

Mina's lovely. I play with her less now, because the ladies are always dragging her off to sit with them for tea and cakes, but we used to play all the time in my playroom. Her favourite toy was my train set. She'd run straight to it and put on my conductors hat, cheering on the trains as she chugs them along the track. Apparently, her Mother and Father won't buy her one because it's too boyish, so I let her have her fun whilst I look after her dolls, Susanne and Annabella. They're pretty, like Mina, with rosy cheeks and gorgeous frilly dresses. I rock them to sleep and tuck them in their pram, pushing them along beside the train on the track whilst Mina pushes the trains. But whilst Mina's dolls are nice, I've always thought I'd prefer a boy doll; I'd call him Zachariah. When I told Mina this, she laughed and said they didn't make boy dolls, so I've never asked Father for one.

 

I wonder if the country boy has a friend like Mina? Would he even have enough time to have a friend? How long does he work a week? At what wage? Does he have enough money to buy a train set to play with his friend? Would dolls be less expensive than a train set? Because the accessories that the dolls need must rise to a hefty price.. I'll ask Mina how much she reckons it costs next time she's over. Although, I've been told that money talk is impolite (Yet that's all that Mother and Father talk about, in one form or another).

 

A chill hits runs up my legs in the water, causing me to shudder suddenly. I look around at the trees and the sky, the light that was there before now dull, the glints of sunshine through the leaves being lost to shadow. I realise then that what seemed like hours of me thinking and swinging my legs in the water was in fact, _hours._

 

My heartbeat jumps in panic when I check my watch, seeing that it's been way over the time Nanny Ral told me to come back for. It'll be even longer by the time I actually make it back to the manor. I panic over what to use as an excuse, lifting my legs out the water and shaking them violently in an attempt to dry them off. I still can't think of anything as I pull on my socks and shove on my shoes, the mixture of damp and fabric making my feet itch.

 

My shoes aren't actually on properly, but I run back in them anyway, shoelaces threatening to trip me up. I don't even get to the first trees when I realise I haven't even picked up my yo-yo or map.

"Blast!" I curse, taking the few steps back to pick up my things hidden in the grass. It wasn't far, but it means I'm even later home, which makes me huff in slight panic.

 

I start running again through the orchard. In front of me the country boy is at one of the trees, reaching up to pick at the apples. He's in the way of my path, so I shout out, waving my arms frantically to try and get him out the way.

"Hey! Move, I'm really late!"

The boy visibly jumps back with a high-pitched yelp, putting his hands in the air as a surrender. Five or six apples drop to the floor. Thud thud thud thud thud.

 

"I swear I wasn't scrumping your apples!" He shouts back at me, eyes wide and a little frightened like before. I don't know what scrumping apples has to do with getting out of the way though.

"What?"

“Okay so I was going to eat one! I'm sorry, Sir! Three at tops, give me that!"

I carry on running,

"Take all you like, just move, please!"

 

He jumps out of the way just in time, but I brush against his sleeves, causing him to jump a bit more.

"Hey, Sir, mind the-"

I feel something round under my foot for a second, the next moment I feel it rolling away from me. Or maybe its me falling backwards..

Yep, I'm falling.

The boy attempts to catch me, but I drag him down with to he fall.

 

"Oof!"

"Bugger!"

 

I gasp at the boy's use of a curse word, ignoring the ache that came with the thud on the floor and the weight from the boy.

"You can't say that!" I tell him, trying to look at him with a frown. The boy looks at me strangely, pushing himself up with his arms to see me properly.

"Can't say what?" He asks, a blank look on his face, as if trying to figure out what I meant. I feel terrible having to spell it out for him, so I whisper, as if that makes it any better.

"You can't say bugger!"

 

He looks taken aback, surely this isn't new to him? Maybe country folk are allowed to say these things freely..? As quick as the fall, the boy stands up again, taking off his cap and wringing it in his hands nervously. He fumbles over an apology again, looking away from me as I haul myself up. (It would have been nice for a hand, but apparently that wasn't going to happen.) I stare at his nest of a haircut, stray strands of straw-like hair flicking up from where it was scrunched funny from underneath his hat. It looks kind of silly, he should probably invest in a hairbrush.

                                                                               

 

 “Anyway, Sir. It won't happen again-” I'm drawn back to what the farmboy is saying,

“ And, er, didn't you say that you were late to somewhere..? I mean, it is getting dark 'n all...”  
  
OH HE'S RIGHT.  
  
“Darn! Yes, sorry!”  
Why am I saying sorry? I think to myself, turning on my heel and sprinting off again. I'm clambering over the wall when the boy shouts out to me again, but I can't really hear it, and can't really be bothered to listen, as rude as that is. I am so extremely very late.

 

* * *

 

 

 

The front door opens with a huge creak when I finally make it home. It's not pitch black outside, per-say, but it's well into dusk. I can hear an muted argument unfolding inside, which immediately stops when I peer into the room. Bad move, Marco. I'm suddenly faced by the outraged expressions of Mother and Father as they whip their heads towards me. Mr.Smith is there too, but he doesn't seem to react. Either way, a rock feels like it's been dropped in my stomach and I _really_ want to be anywhere but in this situation right now.

 

“Marco Bodt!” My Mother shouts, moving to come towards me. I go to back away, still gripping onto the door; but my Father holds an arm out to stop Mother coming closer.  
“ Penelope, please.” He says quietly, only turning his head to see her. “Let me handle this, go enjoy some tea.” He lowers his arm and looks to Mr.Smith with a pleasant smile.

“Mr. Smith, if you would..?”  
“Certainly, My Lord.” Mr.Smith replies readily, bowing slightly before promptly heading off to make some tea. Mother leaves then too, but not before she sends a disappointed look to me. I can hear her sigh.  
  
I'm brought back to my Father as he crouches down before me, gently telling me to shut the door. I do so slowly, because whilst Father is trying not to seem intimidating it's really not working. He stares up at me with a blank face and no words and I have no idea how to read it.  
  
“Marco.” My Father says finally, grabbing my attention with a nudge of my chin. “Why did you disobey Miss. Ral?”  
Disobey. I hate that word. Technically, he's right, but 'disobey' puts a horrible twist to what I was doing.  
“I wanted to explore the grounds. Sir.” I tell him timidly, adding a Sir onto the end of my sentence to try and gain his respect. Father's ever-blank stare bores into me and I can tell that he's not satisfied with that answer. I can't meet his eyes out of pure shame, as is the case with any time I'm in this situation. With Father, it feels like there is no distinct punishment for what I do wrong. He lets it brood and leaves it to fester until you feel terrible about yourself. And I hate it. I shouldn't have gone out of the formal gardens, what was I thinking?  
  
Sensing that I'm drifting off, Father grabs my wrist and gives a harsh tug to get me to look at him. The force surprises me and I hiss at the slight pain, but manage look him in the eye; even though I can feel tears threaten to spill, like a overflowing sink, the feeling caught in my throat. However, Father does not look at my face. Instead, he's slowly looking me up and down, with what was a stern frown, changing to disgust that overcomes his features completely. His hand is still gripped around my wrist.  
  
“You're _filthy.”_ He spits out, looking at me with cold, harsh eyes. I check myself quickly to see that, yes, I am a mess. My shoes aren't on properly, and mud stains my clothes where I've fallen to the floor more than once. That sort of thing hadn't crossed my mind whilst I was out of the formal grounds, and I was stupid enough not to check before coming in.

_Stupid Marco._

  
“No one in this family is to be seen like some sort of _commoner_ , Marco.” My Father warns, his tone steady, but rage clearly held back. He gives another tug at my wrist.  
I have no idea what to say as a reply, I'm not even sure what he expects me to say. All I can think of is about the boy I met on my trip to the river. If he's anything like a commoner, then I have no idea as to why my Father says such thing with hatred. Yes, he was a little dirty; but he gave no air of being a bad person. Maybe people like us just don't know people like them, maybe we're wrong.  
  
Father says my name.  
  
“Sorry, Father.” I manage, but it's not really with any real feeling. Father can tell, too. Seemingly having given up, he lets go of me with a disappointed huff, using his hands to push himself to a standing position. He towers over me and looks down his nose, as if I'm not worth the hassle. I wouldn't call my Father an overly tall person, but when he looks down at me like this I feel so small.  
  
“Take those clothes off and go to bed, Marco.” He says finally, sighing. He walks away then, presumably to join Mother in the lounge. I'm left standing there, that heavy feeling inside my stomach forming a tonne-weight boulder. I don't think I'm getting dinner tonight.

 

* * *

  
Nanny Ral does bring me a small plate with sandwiches on it and a drink of water at around 7 O' clock. Feeling incredibly guilty, I apologise for getting her in trouble. She laughs gently and pats my hair, telling me not to worry about it. She stays for a few minutes, sat on the edge of my bed, telling me how there is absolutely nothing wrong with exploring as child, because you may not get the chance when you grow older. I'm glad she's on my side, it lightens my spirits a little and by the end of our conversation, I'm smiling again.  
  
She leaves with a kiss to my forehead; I tell her sorry again. I don't eat my sandwiches, the last remnants of guilt stopping me. Instead, I clamber out of bed and get out my journal from underneath it. I sit at my desk to write:

  
  
**Dear Diary,**  
**I made it to the river today. I would like to go again to meet the farm-boy, if that's possible. I think he has my map.**

**Love,**

**Marco.**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!  
> This is technobabbl from the ol' tumblr.com  
> Sprouting upwards is the first installment of what me and little_soldier_bodt (little-soldier-bodt on tumblr) hope to be a three part series  
> This book will cover Jean and Marco first meeting and falling in love for the first time.  
> Huzzah!
> 
> If you guys want to chat about this book or hear updates/extras/E.T.C  
> we'll be tracking the tag fic:LGLER


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